Favourites
by rubberglue
Summary: Three times Arthur was the favourite, and the one time he wasn't.


I.

Gwen held her basket close to her chest as she threaded her way through the crowd. It was tournament season and people from all over the kingdom had descended on Camelot to try their luck, from eager merchants to aspiring knights. She nodded, smiling slightly, at the young man who bumped into her but deftly avoided his attempt at a conversation. The smithy would be busier than usual and Gwen wanted to get home quickly to help her father.

She had just escaped the main crowd when someone grabbed her arm and tugged her into an alleyway between two cottages. She squeaked in surprise but most of it was swallowed when a pair of warm lips landed on hers.

"Arthur!"

"This is a most inconvenient basket," he murmured, gently taking it out of her arms and setting it on a small bench.

It wobbled and Gwen worried for a moment that all her clean laundry would go tumbling onto the muddy ground, putting her last few hours to waste. But Arthur clearly had other thoughts as he pulled her to him so that their bodies were flushed against each other. Then, he dipped his head, and this time, the kiss was deeper, his tongue teasing hers. Giving in, Gwen slipped her arms around his neck, her fingers playing with his hair.

"Will you be at the tournament?" He rubbed his thumb across her swollen lips. "Please?"

"I have to work," said Gwen stepping out of his embrace. If she didn't, it would be too tempting to abandon her responsibilities and linger around with Arthur. "The smithy is swamped with orders."

Arthur nuzzled her hair. "At least come for the finals."

"And you're so certain that you're going to be in it."

His familiar, cocky smile spread across his face. "I'm the favourite."

"Your head is going to get too big for your helmet." Gwen picked up her basket, then tip-toed and pressed a quick kiss on Arthur's cheek. "I have to go."

She attended the finals and cheered as Arthur easily defeated his opponent, the first knight of another kingdom. When Arthur looked up at her in the stands and smiled, it felt as intimate as the kiss he'd given her in the alleyway.

II.

"I'm the favourite," Arthur rasped, his split lip barely moving.

When Gwen pressed the damp cloth against the wound on his shoulder, he hissed and his eyes fluttered shut. "I think you might have broken something. Going out again would be suicide."

Arthur shook his head and Gwen frowned. Taking a breath, Gwen turned away to wash the cloth. Blood spread like tendrils into the bowl of water, and the cold fist of fear that had taken root in her stomach when Arthur had collapsed on the ground earlier grew. Foolish, stubborn, prideful man. She lifted the cloth out of the bowl and lay it against Arthur's shoulder again.

"Hey, be gentle." Arthur's hand covered hers and as usual, her heart sped up. "I'm going to be fine. I'm the favourite remember?"

"Being the favourite isn't some sort of magic shield from death," said Gwen.

"Don't be angry, Gwen."

Gwen dropped the cloth back into the bowl, then picked up some bandages. Her voice came out cold despite her attempt to contain her unhappiness. "The tournament isn't worth it."

"If I back out, the other kingdoms will see me - will see Camelot - as weak. And with all the conflicts nowadays, it's not something we can afford. I have to go out again."

"Make sure you come back alive," said Gwen as she fastened the bandage, then tucked the edge in.

Arthur smiled. "I quite like it when you worry."

With a roll of her eyes, Gwen stood. "All done. I'll help you with your armour."

Arthur slowly stood, wincing. "Please."

As Gwen pulled Arthur's shirt over his head, and eased it over his bandaged shoulder, she couldn't help but allow her hand to linger against his warm, bare skin. Arthur smirked as he gazed into her eyes and she turned from him. Quickly, Gwen helped him with the rest of his armour, then walked him to the edge of the tournament grounds where his opponent stood. Turning to her, Arthur cupped her face, then kissed her, hard and quick.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'm the favourite."

And as it turned out, he was and though Gwen felt like she might have collapsed from the stress at various points, Arthur eventually emerged as a severely bruised and bloodied victor. Then, he spent the rest of the night acting like a baby in Gwen's little house in the lower village.

III.

His knights were talking about it when he walked into the armoury. Immediately, they fell silent. But he knew what the whispers and the looks were. It wasn't his first time hearing them, and despite how wrong they all were, the irrational fear and jealousy continued to gnaw at him. What made it worse was that, in an attempt to show just how unaffected he was by the castle gossip, he had sent Gwen to accompany Lancelot's group to one of the villages, in case her medical skills were needed. He really should have sent Merlin instead.

He dropped his armour onto the ground and placed his sword on the weapons rack, painfully aware what his knights were attributing his mood too. That only annoyed him even more and he kicked a helmet as he walked out of the armoury. If it wasn't for the fact that he'd just ended a particularly tough training session, he would be back on the field, working off all the negative emotions. Instead, he decided to look for Merlin.

The return of patrolling knights never received much fanfare, but Arthur knew the moment that Lancelot's party was spotted crossing the border into Camelot town.

"Staring out of the window won't make time past faster," said Merlin as he pottered around Arthur's chambers doing exactly nothing. "You should have picked some flowers for Gwen, show her you missed her. Lancelot -"

Arthur groaned. "Not you too."

"Hey, I'm just repeating what I hear around the castle."

"It's nonsense."

"Of course. Between a secret relationship with a spoilt brat of a prince and a normal relationship with a brave, kind knight, Gwen would always choose you."

"You are not helping, Merlin." Picking up a pillow from the seat near the window, Arthur tossed it at Merlin, who ducked easily.

With a laugh, Merlin walked to the door. "I think that they would be back soon. Are you coming to meet them?"

Their horses were side by side, their heads leaning towards each other as they talked and laughed. Unconsciously, his hand closed over the railing, the rough stone cutting into his skin as he watched. But then, just as Arthur was about to give in to his churning emotions and leave the courtyard when Gwen lifted her head, her eyes meeting his. The smile that stretched across her face, the brightness and joy and love that it conveyed, punched Arthur in the heart, rooting him to the ground.

He waited, then she was dismounting, helped by Lancelot, but her eyes kept returning to Arthur's. The moment her feet touched the ground, she was making her way towards him.

"My lord."

"Guinevere." He was probably smiling like a fool.

Arthur confessed everything to her that night as she sat, curled up in his lap, her head tucked against his shoulder. "Merlin says I don't deal well with coming in second."

Her hands came up to frame his face and she brought it down to hers. Her breath fluttered against his lips as she whispered, "you're always my favourite knight."

IV.

Gwen didn't like this one bit. Truth be told, she hated it. The plan was desperate, a last stand, and success depended on far too many factors, many of which could not be assured to go right. Merlin needed to get to the Crystal Cave and Percival and Gwaine's army, which was taking an alternative route to Camlann, had to arrive on time.

But there was no other option.

Gwen got out of bed and walked over to where Arthur sat, pouring over pages and pages of maps and other papers. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she kissed the top of his head. Arthur took one of her hands, then pulled her to him, until she stood by the side of his chair.

"I have to do this," he said, standing to envelop her in a hug. "I'm sorry it has come to this."

Her breath shuddered out of her and she pressed her face into his chest. They had only been married 5 years, 5 wonderful years, then suddenly, Morgana had resurfaced, stronger and more vengeful. And the future that they had planned out was cast into doubt.

"Guinevere."

She looked up, smiling, hoping that Arthur couldn't see the fear that gripped her in the dim light.

His warm hand cupped her face, his thumb rubbed her cheek and she could see the love in his eyes. "I love you, Guinevere. Of all the decisions I made, you were the best one."

Turning her head, she kissed his palm. "You're my best decision too."

She felt him take a deep breath. "I'm not the favourite tomorrow."

"I know."

"If I don't - if I don't return, you -"

Gwen shushed him, pressing her lips against his. She didn't want to hear his last wishes. She didn't want to think about how he wasn't the favourite in this war. His lips opened, his tongue teasing her until her own lips parted. Arthur deepened the kiss, tightening his hold.

"Let's go to bed, Arthur."

The next morning, she watched him leave.

* * *

AN: Hi! Not sure how many people are still reading AG fic but here's a quick one-shot based on the theme favourites.


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